


"...an art to flying..."

by notjustmom



Series: Towel Day 2016 [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Roof of St. Bart's, Soliloquy, Sorry Not Sorry, Towel Day, angsty, crackly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 14:16:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6910603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is five days until Towel Day, a celebration of the life and work of one Douglas Adams, who I believe would enjoy the work of the Sherlock fandom. </p><p>So for at least the next five days, I will post a Douglas Adams quote and see what the boys make of it...</p>
            </blockquote>





	"...an art to flying..."

**Author's Note:**

> “The Guide says there is an art to flying", said Ford, "or rather a knack. The knack lies in learning how to throw yourself at the ground and miss.” 
> 
> -Douglas Adams, Life, the Universe and Everything
> 
> imagine Sherlock sitting on the ledge, taking time to ponder things while he waits for John to show up...

"A rooftop. Good. Why did I suggest a rooftop, again? Drama, it's the damn drama of things isn't it...Well. Moriarty is dead. D.E.A.D. Wait, let me check again. Yep. dead. Not coming back. Though that returning from the dead bit always makes for good telly. Yeah. Well. It won't be him. 

It's pretty up here, but why the hell am I standing on the ledge? Sitting is safer. Ah, yes, much better, especially with this damn billowy coat and the wind today. John likes the coat. I can tell. And he likes my hair longer, though I think it makes me look girly, he likes the curls. I wish I would have kissed him once. Just to see what he would've done. I could have always said it was 'for science, John,' and laughed it off, if he minded too badly.

He should be getting back to the flat now, and then he will realise that I lied to him. Again. I should just get this over with, making him watch was a cruel idea. But, as I told Mycroft, John won't believe I'm dead unless he sees it with his own eyes, feels for the pulse that isn't there anymore. Hmmm...wonder who invented squash? Strange game...maybe it was someone who was lonely, and wanted to play tennis, but didn't have a net, or a friend, and they had a little hard bouncy ball and a racquet...oh. John. Damn. That was fast. I should've written him a note. He knows though, doesn't he? I hope so, I hope he knows that he's the one person I -

"Hello?" 

"John."

"Hey, Sherlock, you okay?"


End file.
